


Sensational

by mrs_leary (julie)



Category: Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: Backstage, Friendship, M/M, Theatre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 21:32:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7071208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julie/pseuds/mrs_leary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rupert's <em>Merlin</em> friends all stay in touch, and some come to see him in <em>High Society</em> - but he's also glad to be making a new friend in Jamie Parker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sensational

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote fic to my own prompt! With many thanks to **Fable** for beta-ing in double-quick time. ♥ 
> 
> **Two caveats:** I've messed with the real-life timeframe, I'm afraid; and some of our _Merlin_ cast have to be 'the bad guys', which is obviously utter nonsense. All of which was done only for story-related purposes, and I hope that the results justify (at least somewhat) the means.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** This flight of fancy has nothing at all to do with the actual Jamie Parker, Rupert Young, or any of the _Merlin_ cast. The story is purely imaginary, and is not intended to cause offence.

♦

♦

"Did you have a good time last night?" Jamie asked. 

Rupert sighed, and didn't answer. Not that he could avoid Jamie Parker. They'd been sharing a dressing room at the Old Vic for long enough that Jamie knew just how to snag Rupert's gaze via the reflections of their mirrors. All Rupert could see right now was the soft brightness of myriad lightbulbs, and Jamie's earnestly cheerful face. 

"Did your mate take you out for a drink after the show? It must have been nice to catch up."

"Yeah, it was nice," Rupert agreed in tones too mild. He leaned forward a little to check his foundation, and pretended he needed a little more pushed up into his (slowly but steadily receding) hairline. 

Jamie was wise to his tricks. He tipped slightly to the left – and right back into Rupert's line of sight. "I saw the photo on Instagram that Bradley took of you. You looked so cool, man! So proud!"

"Oh. Did I?" Rupert swivelled around on his chair to face Jamie a little more directly. "Like, really obnoxious?"

Jamie swivelled around, too. "No, Rupert. No, not at all. Proud, like … justifiably so. A job well done. And Bradley was all, like, _I'm so unworthy_ …" Jamie laughed, and turned back to face his mirror. "Bet he shouted you a drink or two."

"Yeah," said Rupert, turning back likewise. "Yeah, he did …" He started putting away the makeup, shifting other stuff to where it belonged. It wasn't that Rupert was a neat freak, but his actorly superstitions insisted that everything had to be just so. He sighed. 

Suddenly Jamie was standing right behind him, with his fingers threading through Rupert's hair. Rupert couldn't repress an instinctive start, but then he forced himself to relax, knowing that Jamie was just helping him with his mic. "Thanks," he said. 

"You're welcome," Jamie murmured in exactly the same tones. When he was done, he let his hands drop to Rupert's shoulders, and after a moment he asked, "Why so sad, then?"

"No reason," Rupert bravely replied. And he angled a proper smile up at Jamie via the mirror. "No reason at all."

♦

Rupert jogged along to the dressing room after the matinee on Saturday, and collapsed into his chair. He wanted to strip down and clean up quickly so he could catch some fresh air before the evening show – but first he checked his phone for messages. Not always the wisest thing to do, when really you had other priorities. 

A few minutes later Jamie breezed in, and did a frowning double-take to see Rupert still sitting there, pensively musing. "Everything OK?" Jamie asked. 

"Yeah," said Rupert with a sigh. He'd been doing a lot of sighing lately. "Yeah, sure."

Jamie wasn't fooled, but he tipped his strong chin up in acknowledgement, and went to his own dressing table to begin his quick scrub-off routine. 

"Got a voicemail from Colin," Rupert belatedly explained. "Colin Morgan … ?"

"Mmm," said Jamie appreciatively, throwing a wink over his shoulder, as if he knew very well who Colin Morgan was. 

"Well," Rupert continued after a brief pause, "he basically asked me to fill him in on all Bradley's news."

"That's good, right? I'm hoping he'll come by, see the show. I'm sure he'll love it."

Rupert offered Jamie a vague smile for the thought. "Yeah, but … See, all Bradley did the other night was talk about Colin. A bit about the show, but otherwise nothing but Colin. So what am I meant to tell the guy?"

Jamie turned around on his chair, and leant forward with his elbows on his knees, deadly serious. "So maybe you tell him that."

"D'you think so … ?"

Jamie did a manly little shrug-wriggle-grimace. It was cute. Rupert could feel the stretch of it in his own shoulders. "Maybe," said Jamie. "I don't know."

Which gave Rupert plenty to think about. 

Meanwhile, it might have been Rupert's imagination, but when Jamie waltzed Rupert around the stage that evening … Scrub that. When Mike Connor waltzed Dexter Haven around the stage during their rendition of 'Well, Did You Evah!' with champagne glass in hand, maybe there was a little more affection in it and a little less horseplay than usual. Unless it _was_ Rupert's overactive imagination, of course. 

Actually, he suspected he was starting to think too much. 

♦

Katie called a few days later. Rupert grinned to see her photo come up on the screen; they'd taken it one evening in France, at a café in Paris, and Katie was blowing him a kiss. "Hey, Katie!" he cried, a little too eagerly, as he answered the call. "How are you?"

"I'm great, Rupert. How _you_ doin'?"

He chuckled at the insinuating Joey Tribbiani delivery. "All the better for hearing from you."

"Oh … you're sweet. Listen, Rupert," Katie continued, "do you have Nate's new phone number? I think he's changed his number _twice_ since the one I have."

"Sure. Hang on a sec." He put her on speaker while he scrolled through his contact list, then read out the number.

"You're a star, Rupert," she replied, sounding distracted. No doubt she was writing down the number and Nathanial's name, or whatever. "I've got a project I think he'll be interested in." 

"Anything in it for me?" Rupert asked. 

"Sorry – ?" 

"Never mind …"

And a moment later she'd hung up. 

♦

Jamie arrived in their dressing room one evening brandishing a bunch of flowers. Well, one of those arrangements in a box, which Rupert supposed meant it was a box of flowers. 

"Mate, you shouldn't have," said Rupert, in what he hoped were his finest ironic tones. 

"I didn't," Jamie replied. Though he glanced away a bit shiftily. "Someone left them at the stage door for you. Just wanted to be sure you got them."

Rupert lifted his chin in acknowledgement. "Yeah, I guess I always assume such things are for Kate and Annabel."  Jamie had deposited the flowers with a flourish on Rupert's dressing table, and they both took a moment to admire them. "Pretty cool," said Rupert. Whoever it was had boldly chosen bright yellow sunflowers, vivid blue something-or-others, and dark red whatsits. "So, who were they from?"

"Dunno. There was no name on the card."

"Huh. Miss Ann Onymous."

Jamie waggled his eyebrows. "Or Mr Anon."

Rupert pinned him with a suspicious look. "Are you sure these aren't from you?"

"Believe me, I would be making the most of it if they were."

"Right …" 

"Absolutely no point in wasting fifty quid!"

"Yeah, fair point."

They each got on with their usual routine. Rupert was distracted by the cheerful box of flowers, though. They made him smile. 

♦

Tony sent Rupert an email. 

_Rupes!!! How are you??? It's been too long!!!_

_Please forgive the begging letter, but I'm currently fundraising for Holly Hedge Animal Sanctuary_ [ _http://www.hollyhedge.org.uk/default.aspx_ ](http://www.hollyhedge.org.uk/default.aspx) _and I'd really appreciate anything you can do, no matter how small – or indeed how large! Just think of all those adorable animals who need new homes – and while you hold that thought, dig deep into your pockets._

_Rupes, I'm sure you're ab fab in High Society, and I'm bringing Sarah as soon as our diaries align – just as long as you promise not to 'stealth charm' her away from me._

_TTFN, Tony_

Rupert sighed, thought about all those adorable animals, and clicked the link. 

♦

Early to the theatre one evening, Rupert settled himself in his dressing room with a mug of tea and one of Maureen Lipman's memoirs. Despite which it was a pleasure to be interrupted by a call from Angel. "Hey there!" he greeted her happily. "How are you? … Yeah, I'm good, thanks."

Which were the last words he spoke for quite some while. Not that he didn't want to know all about filming _The Tunnel_ , and particularly _Undercover_ which sounded really awesome, along with Angel's personal triumphs and travails. 

Jamie arrived in the middle of it all, and when he saw Rupert was on the phone silently greeted him with one of his beautiful big grins. 

"Anyway," Angel eventually concluded some while later, "I just wanted you to know in case anyone asks! Ciao, bella!" 

Rupert took a breath. "Ciao, tesoro!" 

"Oh," she added. "I hear great things about the show, Rupert. Great things. Ciao!" And the phone went dead. 

Rupert sighed, put the phone down, and then looked up into the mirror to catch Jamie's inquisitive glance. "I feel like a bulletin board," Rupert kind of mock-grumbled. 

Jamie spun around on his chair and leaned forward to speak to him directly. "I've been thinking about this – and you're obviously the glue that keeps the group together! You're, like, the most important one of the lot." 

"Huh," he responded, not at all sure about the relative importance of such a role. "I'm the glue." 

"Yeah, you're the superglue!" 

"I'm just the glue." Rupert narrowed his eyes at the man, while maintaining his cynical posture, leaning back in his chair. "Are you gonna use me just to stay in touch with Kate and Annabel and Richard and all?"

"No." Jamie's brightness quietened into sincerity. "But I'm going to stay in touch with _you_ … 'cause, Rupert … you're sensational …" 

For a long long moment, Rupert sat there meeting Jamie's gaze. The guy was a fine actor, of course, but for a while it was tempting to believe such a whimsical notion. "Right," Rupert finally replied. "I'm sensational superglue."

Jamie drew back a little, his candour dimming – though he protested, "It's true!" as they each turned back to their dressing tables. 

"Yeah, right," Rupert muttered. 

♦

Richard called on a Sunday afternoon. "Rupert, I wondered if I could ask a _huge_ favour …"

"Of course, Richard." Rupert thought any of them would do anything at all for Richard Wilson, and if it was a matter of tickets to the show, Rupert would pay for them himself if he had to. 

"You're very kind. Well, I've been seeing someone: Elliot Jones. Actually I think you might have met him once, and he's such a lovely young fellow, that – Well, not that you'd remember him for quite the same reasons I did!" Richard chuckled. He sounded completely besotted. 

"That's wonderful news, Richard. I'm happy for you. Elliot's a lucky guy."

"Thank you, you're _far_ too kind. The thing is, Rupert, it's becoming quite serious – I'm the luckiest old sod in the world – and could you possibly start letting people know, just quietly? The last thing I want is a fuss, so I thought we might try to make it a fait accompli, if you see what I mean." 

A brief pause. 

"Well, that's all, really – Oh, though I must congratulate you on your reviews. Well done!" 

Rupert sighed. "Et tu, Richard?"

"Pardon?"

"Never mind! Of course I'll be happy to pass on the good news. Take care, Richard, and say hello to Elliot for me."

"You take care, too, Rupert. Thank you again."

♦

Alex and Eoin came to the show one night, and pretty much took over the dressing room afterwards. They were all bouncy and rowdy, like two overexcited children, and each obviously thought the other was the best thing since canned peaches. Eoin kept calling Alex 'Monsieur' and 'Dorian', and in return Alex called Eoin 'mon Chevalier' and 'Mr Wilde', and said provocative things about the sexiness of Dublin accents. They seemed pretty much oblivious to Rupert and Jamie, except as an audience for their outrageousness. Finally they capered out again, arm in arm, and quiet returned from wherever it had been hiding. 

"Eoin used to flirt with me like that," Rupert wistfully observed. 

Jamie reached to wrap a hand around Rupert's shoulder, and shook him a little, very gently. He had the most achingly compassionate look on his face. But he had no words of comfort. Maybe there weren't any.

♦

"Come upstairs," said Jamie, after the evening show on Saturday, once almost everyone else had left already. 

"Sorry?" asked Rupert. He glanced upwards, which was kind of stupidly pointless. "We're on the top floor!"

"Yeah, come up to the roof. There's something I want to show you."

"Uh huh," he said sceptically. 

Rupert followed, though, when Jamie led the way out of the dressing room and round to the stairwell. They climbed the last, narrow flight, and emerged on top of the Old Vic building. You could rarely see the stars, of course, but London's lights were glowing against the dark night, surrounding them with a kind of magic, and the summer air was somehow both fresh and warm. It was oddly quiet up there, too, just far enough above the streets for the traffic noise to fall away into a hush. 

Rupert wandered around with his hands in his pockets, still mostly following Jamie. If this was what Jamie had wanted to show him, this unexpectedly peaceful place, then Rupert was grateful. He smiled when Jamie looked back at him, and nodded his thanks. 

They turned the corner around a structure of some kind that probably had something to do with the air-conditioning – and that's when Rupert finally got a clue about what was going on. There were fairy lights strung up a bit randomly, and an upturned crate bearing two glasses and a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket. There were flowers, too, in a marmalade jar – a handful of pretty white things with silver-green leaves that Rupert suspected had been purloined from the park across the road. 

Rupert cleared his throat and tried to come up with a remark that would be witty and ironic, while conveying a refusal in a way that wouldn't hurt Jamie's feelings. Something blithe about romance movie clichés, perhaps, that acknowledged this sort of setting had become a cliché for a very good reason. Something about – 

But he'd already missed his chance. Jamie had been pouring the champagne, and now handed Rupert a glass full of pale gold bubbles. Rupert gulped a mouthful in desperation, staring at Jamie's good-natured face all the while. Surely the man couldn't be intending – 

But again, Jamie was well ahead of him. Jamie took a step back, and lifted his arms towards Rupert, toasting him with the champagne and addressing him in the same way that Mike addressed Tracy Lord in each show. And Jamie began singing in that rich warm voice of his. 

" _I've no proof_  
_When people say you're more or less aloof …_  
_But you're sensational._ "

Rupert sought refuge in huffing and mildly rolling his eyes, but he found that he wasn't walking away. Jamie wasn't singing as Mike, who was thoroughly drunk and surprised to be so impressed by Tracy. Instead, Jamie was singing as himself – simply, and purely, and not surprised at all. 

" _I know you_  
_Are more than just 'The Super-Ruper-Glue' …_  
_'Cause you're sensational._ "

Rupert laughed at the amendment that made it their song, and still didn't walk away. Indeed, he didn't even break their shared gaze, though the intensity of it was becoming thrillingly dangerous. 

" _Making love is quite an art …_  
_What you require is the proper squire_  
_To fire your heart._ "

Surely the handsome, honest, happy Jamie Parker would be pretty much anyone's idea of the proper squire. 

" _And if you say_  
_That one fine day you'll let me come to call,_  
_We'll have a ball._ "

Jamie stepped closer, and transferred his champagne glass so he could take Rupert's free hand in his own. 

" _'Cause you're sensational …_  
_Sensational …_  
_That's all._ "

Jamie drew closer again, gazing up at Rupert with affection, but no expectation. The sweet moment held, as if the orchestra was still playing.

This was the point, of course, when Mike and Tracy kissed – a passionate kiss, too. And Jamie was offering. Jamie Parker had cared enough about Rupert feeling unappreciated, to set all this up, and offer his own personal endorsement of Rupert's worth. Rupert was amazed. 

And the thing about being tall was that no one could ever kiss you if you didn't want it. Which made the decision entirely Rupert's. He almost wished it were otherwise and Jamie could just smoothly have his way. 

The moment held, the imaginary music swirled and swelled … and Jamie's generosity and patience became far more important than the possibilities, the consequences. Rupert wasn't at all sure that he wanted more – but he wanted this. 

He slowly but surely bent his head and leaned down – for Jamie was charmingly sturdily short – and Rupert met his friend's mouth with his own. They kissed, just as Jamie had sung, with a simplicity, a purity, an affection that was already known, already accepted. 

It was the kindest, sweetest moment in all the world. And Rupert dared to press for more.

♦

**Author's Note:**

> The song 'You're Sensational' was written by Cole Porter, and originally performed by Frank Sinatra to Grace Kelly in the film _High Society_ : <https://youtu.be/Z14r-Twaswk> … and I honestly think Jamie performed it even better!


End file.
